


More Than Love

by sevensus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Karasuno First Years, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou, Teacher Akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 22:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12662337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevensus/pseuds/sevensus
Summary: "I missed you,” Bokuto says, and his breath is a warm rush on Akaashi’s palm. It’s at that moment that he pulls him down into a hug, with Bokuto’s chest pressed close to his own. Akaashi’s chest shakes a little bit from the little laughter that escapes him. Bokuto’s fingers find their way into his hair, threading through it.“Welcome home, Koutarou,” Akaashi murmurs into his neck.---Bokuto comes home, tired, from a big game. Akaashi is there to greet him.





	More Than Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Esselle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/gifts).



The sun just starts to dip below the horizon when Akaashi hears the door unlocking. He sits in their study, hunching over papers that hold the messily written-out tests of his third graders. It’s at this moment that he notices that he’s relying on the small desk light that sits to his top right, and not the sunlight that seemed to stream in just moments ago.

Akaashi pauses. He notices that something’s off when he doesn’t hear the telltale “Hello, Keiji!!” when Bokuto comes home, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not Bokuto who came home to him.

He sits up straight and his back cracks noisily, in protest from hunching over that wooden desk that’s all-too familiar to him and his favourite red pen. He stands up. The little lines, carved into the soft wood from too many different sheets marked and commented on, seem to stare back at him.

_Ah. Hello, you._

Akaashi’s heart seems to either slow down or speed up as he pads down the lacquer-finished hall to the doorway. Truth be told, Akaashi doesn’t know which one it is, only that the sweaty (and relatively stinky) man in front of him does that to him.

Every single time. Even after all these years.

Even if he’s exhausted like he is right now, coming home from a big game. His golden eyes are half-lidded, and there’s a lazy grin on his face, seeing Akaashi light up in his own little way from seeing him. His shoulders droop a little, like there are weights pulling his shoulders down and they're just a little too much to handle. Sweat drenches his hair, making it look uncharacteristically tired as well.

Bokuto drops his bag to the floor. Usually, Akaashi would make a comment that he could at least take it to the living room before he dumps it down. He doesn’t this time.

Akaashi steps forwards. His chin raises so that he can look Bokuto in the eyes. They’re tired, but they haven’t lost their golden spark like Akaashi fears one day will happen. No, not yet.

The corner of Akaashi’s lips curl up and he looks fondly at the man in front of him. His hand raises up, but Bokuto doesn’t watch as Akaashi cups his cheek. He watches Akaashi’s face as his fingers slowly move, caressing his cheek softly, with the pad of his thumb. Bokuto nuzzles into Akaashi’s hand, kissing his palm. His lips touch near the simple, golden band that encircles Akaashi’s ring finger.

“I missed you,” Bokuto says, and his breath is a warm rush on Akaashi’s palm. It’s at that moment that he pulls Bokuto down into a hug, with his chest pressed close to his own. Akaashi’s chest shakes a little bit from the little laughter that escapes him. Bokuto’s fingers find their way into his hair, threading through it.

_Of course you did. I missed you too._

“Welcome home, Koutarou,” Akaashi murmurs into his neck.

*

The water around them was once hot, but after their many moments spent in the tub, it’s become as warm as the air between Akaashi and Bokuto. Akaashi’s chest is pressed against Bokuto’s back and their chests rise and fall in sync. They’ve been like that for a little bit, content to just listen to each other breathe.

It’s grounding, especially on a day where the nerves are high and many breaths are held, waiting for the final point in an ongoing tie.

The water makes a sloshing sound to signify Akaashi shifting in his place, arms wrapped around Bokuto’s waist, who turns his head slightly, just a little curious. Akaashi smiles fondly at him, trailing a few kisses down the nape of his neck and then to Bokuto’s cheek. Bokuto seems to glow. Or, wait, maybe that’s actually because Bokuto’s skin is wet.

Bokuto is the first to break their silence.

“Keiji,” he says, slowly and quietly, almost like it’s a question. He draws out Akaashi’s name and Akaashi’s heartbeat speeds up, just a little bit. The name is quiet on his lips and they both know that name is meant for the both of them. No one else.

“Yes?” he answers, shifting again so that his chin rests on one of Bokuto’s broad shoulders. The arms around Bokuto’s waist tighten so that they comfortably support Bokuto as he leans back into Akaashi’s touch.

“Did you watch my game today?” Bokuto asks Akaashi, but they both already know the answer. They both also know that’s not the question Bokuto wants to ask, either.

“Of course I did,” Akaashi answers, a little murmur that’s proceeded with a kiss to Bokuto’s shoulder.

“Did I— was I good? Did I make you proud?”

Akaashi can’t help but snort at that. Even after years of dating, moving into a house together, starting his life and career with Bokuto, the man still amuses him with the things he asks and looks for.

Bokuto doesn’t know what to make of that, though, so he takes it as something negative. He slouches down a little, and his already-wet hair goes a little limp, as if it’s disappointed with itself. “Oh.” he says quietly, turning his head back forwards. I’ll try harder next time.”

Akaashi snorts at that too. Even after all these years, even after becoming a professional volleyball player, becoming one of the _best_ , and even modelling for sports companies— Bokuto still wants Akaashi’s approval. Akaashi, who teaches third graders, and whose students are in complete and absolute _awe_ of his lover. Akaashi, who, even after all these years, is still so in love with the man in front of him.

“Turn around,” Akaashi says softly. “I want to see your face when I say this.”

The water around them sloshes in protest to the man turning around in it. Akaashi takes in Bokuto, _his_ Bokuto, facing him. His abdominal muscles, prominent on his body, are shiny with water. Akaashi scoots over to him so that he can press his forehead against the other’s, whose forehead is covered by limp, damp hair. He runs his fingers over Bokuto’s biceps, from his shoulder to his elbow to his wrist, before his hands find Bokuto’s.

Bokuto’s ring is warm from the water. The two should’ve taken the rings off before bathing, but they didn’t feel like it, silently agreeing to keep them on.

“You make me so, so proud,” Akaashi murmurs. He hears the little breath that’s sucked in by Bokuto and releases his own little breath from saying what he’s been thinking all day long, especially throughout Bokuto’s game.

“Every day. Even if you lose your games and even if you come home exhausted. But you didn’t lose today, and I’m proud of that, too.”

Akaashi’s right hand trails up Bokuto’s forearm again, then his biceps and pectorals. They settle on the side of Bokuto’s neck, where it meets his shoulder.

“Watching you today— watching you spike and sweat and look _alive_ ,” Akaashi starts, his heart filling with adoration for Bokuto like it’s that first time again, watching Bokuto spike for _the first time._ And it’s not that Akaashi doesn’t adore Bokuto regularly, either, but this is a different kind of adoration; the kind of adoration that follows complete and utter love.

“It reminds me why I fell in love with you in the first place,” he confesses quietly to Bokuto, who beams at Akaashi’s words. He has the dopiest grin on his face, Akaashi would say, which he loves almost as much as the person who wears it so proudly.

“Marry me?” Bokuto asks him and Akaashi smiles at him with his teeth. His hand moves to Bokuto’s lap and Bokuto’s eyes follow.

The little golden band, encircling Akaashi’s ring finger, glows, adjacent to Bokuto’s matching one. “I’m planning to,” he replies.

Bokuto laughs at that, grinning afterwards with a proud smile, as if _he’s_ the one proud of his teacher fiancé’s professional volleyball game. Akaashi smiles fondly at him, cupping both of Bokuto’s cheeks with his warm, wet palms. Bokuto beams down at him.

“And besides, Koutarou, Hinata wants to know when you’re coming back to visit the class,” Akaashi teases, raising an eyebrow. His little third graders absolutely _adore_ Bokuto, maybe enough to rival Akaashi when they’re all combined. Bokuto’s grin grows wider— he adores Akaashi’s students as well.

“Soon!” Bokuto exclaims before taking Akaashi’s own face in his large hands and peppering it with kisses. Akaashi laughs and splashes him with water.

“He told me that he was going to watch your game tonight,” Akaashi explains further on, using his thumb to wipe the water droplets off Bokuto’s cheek. “He insists that you be the leader of the to-be-formed ‘VolleyBoys and Yachi’.”

“Really?” Bokuto murmurs, seemingly distracted. His arms wrap around Akaashi’s waist and he pulls him in, attacking his neck with ticklish kisses. Akaashi’s fingers grip Bokuto’s shoulders to keep from falling back into the water, and his own shoulders shake with silent laughter at his fiancé’s barrage of kisses.

“Ah— yes!,” Akaashi gasps, trying to catch his breath. “He insists that he’s going to marry you when he’s older, you know.”

“Too bad, then. I’m very happy with who I’m marrying right now,” Bokuto replies, pressing a kiss to Akaashi’s jaw before coming up to look at him, nose-to-nose. “I thought he was going to marry Kageyama?”

Akaashi snorts. “Kageyama has his mind set on either volleyball or milk. He tells everyone that he’s going to be the tallest person on earth when he’s grown up because he drinks so much milk,” Akaashi explains, as a matter-of-factly, smirking and raising his eyebrow again.

Bokuto’s eyebrows shoot up. “Taller than me?”

“Oh, yes,” Akaashi murmurs, nodding his head. His eyes travel downwards to Bokuto’s lips before stealing a kiss quite quickly. “Quite taller than you.”

Bokuto smirks back at Akaashi. “I see,” he says, his voice breathy. Akaashi finds himself pushed up against the wall of the tub, his thighs straddled, staring up at fiery, golden eyes. His breath hitches.

They stay like that for a moment, looking at each other like that before Akaashi blinks, looking down and smiling bashfully, like they’re in high school again.

“We should get out of the water,” Akaashi murmurs. Their fingers, Bokuto’s and Akaashi’s, are pruning up, entwined together and pressed against the wall, right next to Akaashi’s head. Bokuto notices and nods, pressing a kiss to Akaashi’s forehead.

“We should,” Bokuto agrees, standing up. Little droplets of water fall down, rolling off his clavicle and arms and back, returning to the water below. Akaashi follows suit and grabs the big, fluffy white towel that awaits him on the counter. He looks to Bokuto, who’s towel-drying his bicoloured hair.

The feeling Akaashi has had built up throughout the day, even fueled by Bokuto doing simple, domestic, day-to-day actions like this. It was slow at first, pooling within his chest, but it soon turned into something much stronger, reaching out to Bokuto with a teeth-gritting, heart-racing longing. There aren’t many words to express how Akaashi feels, but he tries, anyway.

“I love you,” Akaashi tells Bokuto. Bokuto’s back is to him, showing off glorious back muscles that he knows can’t be attained by just volleyball alone. Bokuto seems to perk up, though, as if those three words are his “on” button and Akaashi has just activated him.

“Yeah?” Bokuto asks as he slowly spins on his heel. “Well, I adore you,” he says, and Akaashi slowly smiles. He finds himself wrapped within Bokuto’s damp towel and warm embrace.

“And adoration is way more than love,” Bokuto murmurs, kissing Akaashi’s cheek, as he holds him in their shared bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, I really did mean to post this earlier. Sorry!  
> Anyway, I wanted to thank you all for reading my fic(s)! A special thank you to Esselle, who inspires me to write. Thank you for writing your works. This is for you.  
> And, I guess, this is also a birthday gift to myself. Not the fic itself, but posting it after a month's worth of procrastination. Yikes.  
> And I want to thank you, my readers. You let me write on.
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://sevensus.tumblr.com/)


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